Page 32 of The Way We Fell

My right leg feels heavier than the left, the new skin between my knee and ankle, and all the way up the side of my thigh still pink and tender. Pins of pain shoot from my toes up to my knee as I drop my weight onto my right leg, which immediately buckles beneath me. I catch myself on the edge of the mattress, testing out my left leg instead.

The skin still feels itchy and tight, but the leg takes my weight. I drag the right one behind me as I shuffle uneasily to the bathroom. I need a piss. And maybe a cold shower. My T-shirt is drenched in sweat, clinging to my chest and back like I’ve run a marathon. I relieve myself in the dark, using the moonlight through the window to aid my aim and help me keep the stream in the bowl, and then I wash my hands.

Bracing both hands on either side of the sink, I let the water run until it’s as cold as it’s going to get before I throw some on my face, then run my wrists under it, letting the icy flow cool my pulse points. The chill runs through my body, cooling my overheated skin from within. Then, I tear my T-shirt over my head, flick on the shower, and step under the cold spray.

After, I pull clothes from my drawers on autopilot. I close my fingers around the first items I touch and drag them across my over-sensitive skin in the dark, making some unmanly whimpers and groans in the process. I’m not quite sure where the next few hours go, but somehow, I end up outside Flights and Fancies to meet Katy.

“Are you okay, love?” Katy’s brown eyes pin me with concern. I stare into them and fall, again, deep into an abyss. They’re bottomless, entire galaxies swirling within those coffee orbs. They’re pretty. Just like Katy.Just like Katy.

“Jay?” There’s her voice again. She sounds distant, but she’s right in front of me. Isn’t she? She was right here.

I reach out a hand, tentative fingers colliding with warm flesh.

“Jay, love, look at me. Shit, Jay, Jesus, come here.”

Something soft wraps around my wrist, and the sensation snakes its way up my arm and into my chest, fingers of warmth thawing the ice sludging through my veins. I’m pushed backwards, down, until I’m sitting on something. Voices hold muffled conversations around me, somewhere in an underwater space. And then there’s something—someone—small and solid, a body pressing against mine, cool leather and warm flesh, and the sweet scent of oranges pervading my senses. A small hand grasps my jaw and turns my head.

“Look at me, love. I’m right here. You’re safe, Jay, I promise. You’re safe, and I’m right here.”

Another hand rubs at the pulse point on my wrist. I can feel it, but I can’t. I can hear her, but I can’t. Her thumb rubs gently, insistently, until I squeeze my fingers around hers, and I feel a rush of breath leave her lips in a heavy exhale.

“Come back to me, love. You’re safe here.”

Light seeps in through the cracks, melting the gray haze, and in its wake, I seeKaty. I grasp her hand like a lifeline, my fingers beginning to tremble as the world shifts back into focus. Her eyes hold a million emotions, none of them good ones, but the moment they latch onto mine, everything falls away, and she offers me the most brilliant smile through tears.

“You’re okay, love.” She releases my chin and my hand and flings her arms around my neck. I bury my nose in her hair and lift my arms around her, inhaling her orange perfume, squeezing her against me. I want her closer. I need her inside my skin.

“Let’s go home,” she says. “We’ll come back later in the week. Let’s just order a pizza and stay in. Are you okay to walk?”

I stand on shaky legs, and she links her arm with mine.

“Come on, soldier. Let’s get some food in you.”

We’re back at Katy’s house before I realise it. I’ve been putting one foot in front of the other, led by the tiny blonde angel currently tucking a chunky cable knit blanket around my legs.

“You’re fucking freezing, Jay,” she says, grasping one of my hands in both of hers. “Let me get another blanket. Do you want some tea? Coffee? Is coffee a good idea?”

“A blanket is fine,” I say, voice cracking. It’s the first thing I’ve said to her all day. It’s the first thing I’ve said to anyone all day, for that matter. My voice is weak and hoarse, and I swallow a few times around the thickness that forms in my throat. “Thank you.”

She offers another brilliant smile before bouncing out of the room, golden hair swishing behind her. When she returns a few moments later, she has another blanket slung over her arm, and she’s carrying a round tray with two glasses of water, a bowl of something that smells warm and nutty, and two steaming cups of tea.

“I made you some tea anyway, just in case you change your mind. You don’t have to drink it.” She sets the tray on the footstool by the sofa before draping the second blanket over me and squeezing herself in beside me, lifting my legs to rest on her thighs. Then she reaches forward, plucking something from the bowl and popping it into her mouth.Walnuts.That warm, nutty smell—it’s because they’re nuts.

“Are you okay?” She searches my face with a concerned gaze. “Because honestly, love, you look like hell.”

“I didn’t sleep well,” I admit quietly. I know I slept, because I woke up from a nightmare. But it feels like I didn’t sleep at all. “And my leg hurts.”

“The heavy one?” She pats lightly at my jeans, careful not to apply any pressure to my leg beneath the material. This woman’s thoughtfulness floors me. The way she looks at me like I’m important, the way she speaks to me like I’m someone of value. The way even when I show her time and time again that I’m not, she treats me like I’m worthy.

“That’s the one. A metal rod will do that to a leg.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.” I press my lips together. I don’t want to be an asshole. I want so badly to open up, to let her in, to draw her to me and never let her go. But I can’t, and I won’t. Because she’s my little sister’s best friend. Because I’m the better part of a decade older than her. Because she’s off limits. Because she’s too good to carry that burden. Too pure. Because what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her.

But she knows me. Maybe better than I know myself. And that means Ican.

“Okay,” she whispers. “As long as you’re okay. You… you scared me back there.”

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